The Footsteps of the Forerunner
“Follow thou Me.”
“Follow Me,” said the Lord Jesus; and hardly had Peter and John made a movement to comply, when He vanished from their sight. “Follow Me,” and a few days afterwards He led them out as far as to Bethany, and whilst still in the act of blessing them, He was parted from them, and carried up into heaven. They did not go with Him. Their “natural” bodies could not keep pace with His, now “spiritual” and glorified; and whilst His immortal form soared upward, they were not caught up with Him in the air. But although their bodies remained on earth, their affections followed. Their hearts went with Him, and the whole of life’s remainder was an effort to
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overtake Him. “Follow Me” was henceforward their motto, and gave consistency and meaning to all that they did. In that upper chamber where the next ten days passed in prayer, they felt that He was not far away; and at Pentecost, in the outpouring of the Spirit, they found Him in their midst once more. It was in His name and in communion with Him that they preached their wonderful sermons, and said to the lame and paralytic, “Arise.” It was as followers of Jesus that they calmly encountered frantic mobs and angry rulers; and not less cheerfully than they went to the prison made bright by His presence, did they carry the cross endeared by His pattern. Above all, when their lives came out so unprecedented and unique — in disinterestedness and self devotement, in elevation and beneficence, noC only in advance of all others, but a new thing in the earth, — men took knowledge of them that they had been with J esus. As followers of Christ they distanced the rest of mankind.
That mighty Magnet has not lost its attractive power. An unseen Saviour is still drawing many after Him. There are at this moment lives on earth which but for the influence of Christ’s example and the inspiration of Christ’s Spirit would have been impossible. There are some who have taken Him for their pattern, and who, on the strength of an absorbing affection, have risen to a height of devotion and heavenly-mindedness at which we can only gaze with distant wonder; and there are others who would feel it almost presumptuous to speak of Christ as in any sense their model, on whom His Spirit has so wrought that it has made them very different from what they once were, and who in some particular or other have so learned the mind which was in Christ, that on the strength of that single feature they are paragons of some special grace or virtue.
One day, thinking to amuse him, his wife read to Dr. Judson some newspaper notices, in which he was compared to one or other of the apostles. He was exceedingly distressed, and then he added, “Hor do I want to be like them. I do not want to be like Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, nor anv mere man. I want to be like Christ. We have only one perfectly safe Exemplar — only One who, F
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tempted like as we are in every point, is still without sin. 1 want to follow Him only — copy His teachings, drink in His spirit, place my feet in His footprints, and measure their shortcomings by these, and these alone. Oh, to be more like Christ!” Such had long been his aspiration; and to a mind not naturally the most prepossessing it gave an unworldly charm, and more than mortal mastery. Panting after perfection, he strove to subdue every sinful habit and senseward tendency. Finding that for want of funds the Mission was languishing, he cast into the treasury his patrimonial estate. Finding that his nicety and love of neatness interfered with his labours among the filthy Karens, he sought to vanquish this repugnance by nursing those sick of most loathsome diseases. Finding that his youthful love of fame was not utterly extinguished, he threw into the fire his correspondence, including a letter of thanks he had received from the Governor-General of India, and every document which might contribute to his posthumous renown. And finding that his soul still clave unto the earth, he took temporary leave of all his friends, and, retiring into a hut on the edge of the jungle, and subsisting on a little rice, for several weeks he gave himself entirely to communion with God. And although some may think that in all this he strove to “wind himself too high,” and although, in mere ascetic abnegations, it may turn out that we are following not J esus but John the Baptist, it must not be forgotten that low spiritual attainments or a languid faith will never raise a sunken people: if mountains are to be moved, if whole nations are to be lifted from paganism and its miry pit, the Xavier or Zinzendorf, the Brainerd or Judson, who seeks to raise them up, would need himself to dwell on high; he would need a strong arm and a firm hold on heaven.
To the evangelist we concede the foremost place amongst Christ’s followers; for his work is the hardest, and, where that work is successful, the reward is the greatest. But there are many who, without any special designation, and almost unawares to themselves, have proved excellent missionaries, and gone far to carry out the mind of the supreme Philanp 2
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thropist. Such a service was rendered, first by Granville Sharpe, and then by Clarkson and Wilberforce, when, on the fulcrum of a glorious first principle in the British Constitution working their lever, they first established the point that in England no man can be a slave, and then from the British Empire rolled off the crime of the slave-trade, and thus brought round that universal emancipation in which France and the Netherlands have so honourably joined. Such a service was rendered by Michael Thomas Sadler, when, moved with compassion, he took up the case of our factory children, and, fighting their battle in Parliament and on platforms, at last gained for them a little daily leisure, and opportunity to receive that Christian education of which, in common with the training of the Sabbath-school, we see the results in the new race of operatives, so manly and so much -enduring. Such a service has been rendered by every one who, without self-seeking, has in faith and simplicity taken up the work which God gave him to do. As by one approach you enter the valleys of Piedmont, you come on a school-house with the gable inscribed, “Whosoever passes this way, let him bless the name of Colonel Beckwith:” and so in every village you find dearer than any other earthly name, the memory of that good soldier who, disabled at Waterloo, gave forty years to those Waldenses whom he chanced to visit, building their schools, relieving their poverty, and striving to obtain for them those civil privileges which are now nearly equal to our own. In like manner, when in any dark place of Belgium or France, you come on a light clearly shining, and trace its pedigree — when you ask the earnest preacher or colporteur whence he comes — in all likelihood you are sent back to Geneva and its Evangelical School; in other words,, you find that this sacred fire was’ kindled at the lamp which Robert Haldane fetched from Scotland half a century since, and which now sheds from Helvetian mountains a richer light than any ever left by rosiest sunset on their peaks of snow. Thus it was that when in 1831 cholera was raging in Hamburg, and even near relatives in their terror ran away from the stricken, one weak woman, strcng in God,, withstood the panic, and with excuisite delip 3
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cacy and inexhaustible loving-kindness, ministering to the sufferers, gathered round herself such a halo of angelhood that she became the correspondent of Queens and the prid of her city, and found the only recompense she sought in instituting that Society of Deaconesses and Friends of the Poor who have done so much for Germany, and of whom we can never think except in connexion with Amelia Sieveking, as again when we think of her we are constrained to think of that Divine Sufferer who made her so rich in His tender mercy, and so beautiful in His salvation.
Every feat of philanthropy, every plan conducive to human welfare, may be traced up to the self-same origin. Sometimes through curious channels, through dark and dismal conduits, it flows from the “fountain opened in the house of David even although it be a monkish perversion, or a secularist plagiarism, for the origin of -my kind or beneficent idea we are obliged to go back to that best of benefactors, who taught the blessedness of giving, and who, through fhe matchless generosity of His own self-sacrif ce, and through the presence «of His perpeti al almoner and evangelist, the Church, is exerting evermore a softening influence on the heart of Christendom.
You fear, however, that all this is beyond your reach. You say that you cannot hope to do anything grhat or originate anything novel. But it is not this that is needed. Great plans seldom come to much. The projector plants a whole pumpkin and expects a vegetable prodigy; but all the crop is a sprawling gourd, destined to perish at the first touch of winter. God plants an acorn or a little scaly carpel, and although for years the seedling is hardly visible, at last the oak or cedar can shelter a congregation beneath its canopy, and it lives for centuries. The work which you have presently in hand is great enough, if it be to protect and foster “trees of God;” and it is not so much by striking out new plans as by putting fresh life into the old ones, that you will fpest serve your generation and exemplify the power of the Gospel.
In the lyords of a keen obser Ter and powerful thinker, “The pressing need of our faith is not simply faithful evangelists to proclaim its doctrines, but legions of men conse-THE FOOTSTEPS OF
crating their worldly vocations, witnessing to that truth on which much scepticism prevails, that Christianity, so received as to become an integral part of a man, is omnipotent to keep him from the evil, not by taking him out of the world, but by making him victorious over it. He is a most worthy disciple of Christ who, like Palissy, or Buxton, or Budgett, or Perthes, exhibits religion as ‘ the right use of a man’s whole self’ — as the one thing which gives dignity and nobility to what is in itself sordid and earthly — as the mainspring of earnest and successful strivings after loftier ends and a purer life — as the power outside of and within man which, lifting up conduct in the individual, raises the community, and not as a state of mind mystical, and in active life unattainable, high up among things intangible, separated from contact with work-a-day life, appropriate to Sabbath-days and special hours, to leisure, old age, and death-beds. Every man who is ‘diligent in business, serving the Lord,’ is a sermon brimful of the energies of life and truth, a witness to the comprehensiveness and adaptability of Christ’s religion, a preacher of righteousness in scenes where none can preach so effectively or so well.”*
To this want of the age, to this “need of our faith,” I trust many here will seek to contribute. I trust that there are not a few who, in answer to the question, “Lovest thou me?” cannot help saying, “Yes, we do;” and there are others who, from distrusting themselves, or misunderstanding Him, would be afraid to say so much, but in whose behalf I fondly hope that He “who knoweth all things,” is pleased to say it for them. If so, the best token of attachment and loyalty ]s to follow Him fully. Try to give such a representation of His religion as will be true to Himself and appropriate to your own position, and then it cannot fail to be attractive and impressive to others.
Amongst those features of the great Example which all may study and seek to assimilate, let me mention first, His sublime veracity.
* “North British Review,” Nov. 1862, p. 274. For an eloquent exposition of an all-embracing and all-pervading Christianity in connexion with art, literature, and mental science, see the “Essays of Peter Bayne, Esq.,” and his w Christian Life in the Present Time.”
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“For this cause came I into the world,” as He himself stated it, ‘‘that I should bear witness to the truth;” and to the truth so constant was His witness, that many wrould fain have sent Him out of the world again. ISTor was it merely particular truths to which He testified. He was himself the Truth, the Amen, the great Reality, whom it was impossible to know too thoroughly, or trust too entirely; and, whilst from His own mouth guile never proceeded, there never was a presence in which affectations and hypocrisies felt so uncomfortable — gasping, and out of their element, and like to give up the ghost. In order to have the mind of Christ we must share His truthfulness. The temptations are terrible. Hot to speak of malignant falsehoods — lies of cowardice, lies of convenience, lies of complaisance, — there are such temptations to suppress and exaggerate, to distort and to colour, to make promises in levity and to offer plausible apologies for failure, that it is no easy attainment, a perfect truthfulness. But with the lustre which it sheds, and with the solid and secure sensation which it imparts to its possessor, it is a pearl of great price, and one of the best gifts which the transforming Spirit imparts. He alone can carry us over the initial difficulty, and by putting truth in the inward parts — by making ourselves realities, He makes it possible to speak the truth and to live it. Teaching more than a poor verbal accuracy, imparting that courage which is constitutionally honest, and curbing those evil passions, covetousness, envy, malice, which are “alway liars;” above all, by bringing the will into harmony with God and His holy law, He can put far from us the way of lying, and will enable us to follow along His shining track the Faithful and True Witness.
Again: Christ J esus hath left us a pattern in His kindness. It is wonderful how much misery and discomfort one ill-conditioned being can diffuse — in a household a sour or sulky mmate, in a parish or county a litigious landowner, in an empire a despot like Philip the Second or Ivan the Terrible, with a craze which takes the form of cruelty. But great as is the might of Apollyon, greater is the might of the Saviour; and much as the devil has done in the way of destroying, Christ has wrought
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far greater wonders in the way of restoring. Himself the Son of God incarnate, and crowning three years of the busiest beneficence by a deed of mercy, whose influence eternity cannot exhaust, and whose outgoings are felt in all worlds — one lesson of His life is the amount of consolation, and encouragement, and holy impulse, which can be diffused from a single presence in its progress through one short day, when there are no conflicting elements — when the fountain never intermits, when the light is never veiled. 0, my friends, let us dwell on the loving-kindness of our Lord. Let us muse on that walk of mercy which, wherever it trod, hath left the air so balmy and the grass so green. Let us try to share His joy who found a solace which others knew not in pardoning sin and transforming sorrow. And if ours cannot often be the ecstasy of saving a soul alive, let us all the rather abound in those very needful and more numerous offices which take stumbling-blocks from the path, and thorns from the pillow, prejudices from the mind, and wounds from the spirit. Let ours be the Christ-like happiness of showing kindness; and as we try to alleviate anguish, as we visit the house of mourning, as we deal forth bread to the hungry, we shall find it a gainful partnership to be fellow-workers with the Man of Mercies. For our own bleeding spirit, we shall find that there is no better balsam than the wine and oil which we pour into the wounds of a forlorn fellow-traveller. To lighten our own load, we shall find that the best expedient is to bear another’s burden. Of all sunshine, we shall find that the most potent for dissipating our own darkness is the smile we give to others. And if any regret there be, it will be to find that no benefaction is absolutely returnless and gratuitous; for send it wheresoever we may, in some shape or other it is sure to come back into our own bosom.
Once more: follow Christ in that wonderful faculty which turned every opportunity to the best account. His immediate attendants were, most of them, crude in their views, and confused in their notions, and the hosts who invited Him, and the audiences which gathered round Him, seldom supplied inviting themes of discourse. But in any com- 0
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pany, starting from any topic, He soon carried His hearers into that heaven from which He came, or into the presence of that Father whom He so ardently loved, and so earnestly sought to make known. And if there were like elevation in our minds, our presence would be a continual influence, evoking good and repressing evil. Profanity and ribaldry would soon sink abashed from our silence or our frown, and timid piety would soon know where to go for a comforter or counsellor. For if there be a frightful contagion in evil, there is in faith and earnestness a Divine ascendancy. One serious thinker can do much to arrest frivolity, even as one cheerful countenance can go far to brighten a gloomy company, even as one high-toned spirit can go far to raise to his own level a large assembly.
To instance in nothing else: follow Christ in His humility. “Let the mind be in you which was in Christ Jesus, who humbled himself, and made himself of no reputation.” Learn of Him, for He is meek and lowly. Although the meekness of the believer cannot be quite the same as the humility of the self-emptying Saviour, in some things they agree. Whether it be in Christ or the Christian, there is in true humility nothing abject, nothing self-disparaging; on the other hand, there is affability, there is self-forgetfulness, there is contentment, there is submission to God’s will, there is cheerful, unquestioning obedience. And this meek and quiet spirit is in the sight of God of great price.
<c Through the strait gate of life she passes, stooping, With sandals on her feet;
And pure-eyed graces, with linked palms, come trooping,
Their sister fair to greet.
“The angels bend their eyes upon her goings,
And guard her from annoy;
Heaven fills her guiet heart with overflowings Of calm celestial joy.
v l’b% Saviour loves her, for she wears the vesture With which He walked on earth;
4nd through her child-like glance, and step, and gesture,
He knows her heavenly birth.
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<c The white-robed saints, the Throne-steps singing under,
Their state all meekly wear;
Their pauseless praise wells up from hearts which wonder
That ever they came there.” *
* “Vision of Prophecy,” &c., by J. D. Burns, p. 256.